


i’d get on my knees

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Crossdressing, Degradation, Handcuffs, M/M, SUB PETE IS THE TRUTH AND IF I CANT GET THAT CONTENT IM MAKING IT MYSELF., i know I’m forgettinf some but whatever you get the idea, mild Dom/Sub, so this is smut!, sure. Mild, wrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Despite common misconceptions, when it comes to sex, Pete Wentz is not good at getting what he wants.If you ask his friends, it’s because he’s annoying. If you ask his bandmates, it’s because (quote) “he’s a bitch, I wouldn’t fuck him either”. If you ask his boyfriend, however, it’s for...other reasons.Shameless kinky wentzman smut because I have nothing to lose anymore.





	i’d get on my knees

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. I had nothing to title this, so yeah it’s THAT lyric. 
> 
> Yeah, yeah, I know, all my dedicated fans who comment “I’m excited you’re back!” on every new fic probably don’t see my name on a fic and expect hardcore kinky smut. It’s definitely offbrand. But counterpoint- IT’S HOT. 
> 
> I’m so sorry for this. I’m SO sorry.

Despite common misconceptions, when it comes to sex, Pete Wentz is not good at getting what he wants. 

If you ask his friends, it’s because he’s annoying. If you ask his bandmates, it’s because (quote) “he’s a bitch, I wouldn’t fuck him either”. If you ask his boyfriend, however, it’s for...other reasons. 

Pete’s got a plan this time though, and he’s sure it will work. Joe’s out of the house, at the store buying stuff to make pasta for dinner, so Pete is busy digging through the box hidden in the back of the bedroom closet for something _just right_. 

And he finds it—a matching set of lacy, blood red lingerie, a tube of painfully bright red lipstick, a pair of handcuffs, and a thick black ribbon. Content with what he’s found, Pete pushes the rest of the box back and gets to work. 

By the time the door opens and Pete hears Joe call, “Babe, I’m home!”, he’s ready. He’s put on the lingerie, slathered lipstick all over his mouth, and tied the ribbon over his eyes. He can’t do much with the handcuffs himself (he tried to put them on on his own once and broke his wrist—he’s forbidden to do it again), but he’s set them clearly in front of him, and his hands are poised behind his back, suggesting exactly what they’re there for. He’s kneeling on the bed in wait, knowing it’s only a matter of time before Joe comes in and finds him. 

And then he does. 

“Pete, where are—“ Joe starts, then Pete hears the door creak open and assumes Joe’s noticed him, because a soft gasp escapes him and instead of finishing his sentence, his voice changes entirely and he growls out, “Oh, _really_.” 

Pete just sits on the bed expectantly, not acknowledging that Joe’s arrived. If he straight up asks for what he wants right now, there’s no way he’s getting it. He knows that. 

Footsteps cross the room, and suddenly there’s a hand grabbing Pete’s chin, yanking it up as if to look him in the eyes, even though Pete can’t see right now. Pete can feels Joe’s breath on his face as Joe hisses out, “The fuck is this, hm? Is this another one of your ploys to make me fuck you, is that it? Do you think you can get what you want just by dolling yourself up and sitting here all pretty?”

Pete doesn’t make the mistake of answering that. He does shudder a little. He should’ve known it wasn’t that easy, should’ve known this would happen. 

Joe’s grip on Pete’s chin tightens, his nails digging in the tiniest bit. “Presenting yourself on a silver platter doesn’t mean you get to get fucked, you needy bitch.”

Pete shudders again involuntarily, feeling like a chill has just passed through him. But still he remains quiet, hoping good behavior will win Joe over. 

That’s not the case. 

“You got fucked two days ago,” Joe continues. His hand still hasn’t moved. “And you have the _audacity_ to think you just...deserve more?”

Pete breaks, unable to stop himself from fucking everything up. “ _Please_ ,” he breathes out, “Please, I need—“

“You need to _shut up_ , slut,” Joe interrupts harshly. “Begging doesn’t earn you _anything_.”

Pete’s heart skips a beat, and even though he can’t see it, he imagines what Joe’s face must look like—dark and disappointed, looking down on Pete like he’s nothing—which he is. 

Pete’s already ruined his chances of getting this easy, but he doesn’t stop trying. “Please, Joe, please fuck me, I’ll do whatever you say, please—“

“I told you to shut up, and you aren’t doing that!” Joe bursts out, and at the same time, his hand quickly darts behind Pete’s head, grabs his hair, and yanks. Pete’s head snaps back and he lets out a yelp, which only gets a quiet laugh from Joe. 

“Maybe—and only maybe—if you stop talking, I’ll let you blow me,” he says darkly, continuing to hold Pete back by his hair as he starts to climb onto the bed, getting closer to Pete until something clinks under him. 

It’s the forgotten handcuffs, Pete knows it is. Joe notices and chuckles. 

“Sure, I’ll humor you, whore,” he mutters, hand leaving Pete’s hair. Pete hears more clinking, and suddenly Joe’s arms are wrapping around him and there’s cold metal on his wrists. The cuffs click shut, effectively binding Pete’s hands together. Joe leans back again. Pete can almost feel the smirk that he can’t see. 

“Now can you—“ Pete starts, impossibly hopeful, but he doesn’t even get to finish the question. 

“ _No_.” The word sends shivers down Pete’s bare back. Joe continues, “Shame, too, if you would’ve kept your mouth shut, I really _was_ gonna let you suck me off.”

Pete, to his credit, shuts up this time. It’s clear he’s not getting fucked today, but if he can get _anything_ out of this, he’ll take it. He hopes that if he’s silent long enough, Joe will give in. 

“Tell you what, you greedy fucking whore,” Joe begins, “I’m going to do whatever I want for five minutes, and as long as you’re quiet—I don’t even want a _moan_ out of your pretty little lips—I’ll fuck your mouth.”

Pete almost says “okay”, but realizes that’d probably invalidate the deal, so he just nods. 

“Good.” Suddenly, there are hands on Pete’s shoulders and he’s being pushed back onto the bed. The back of his head slams down hard against the mattress, and the cuffs on his wrists press into his back. Joe just laughs again. 

“Five minutes. Starting now. Mouth shut,” he commands. Pete, for once in his life, listens. 

For a few seconds, nothing happens, and Pete almost wonders if that’s the challenge—but then Joe’s mouth is on his neck, peppering kisses down to his collarbone. Pete is almost relieved, because this seems easy, but _then_ Joe starts biting. 

The first nip is right over the bone, and Pete has to stop his breath from hitching, because even that might count against him as a noise. Joe continues down further, biting harder and harder as he continues. He reaches the edge of the lacy bra Pete’s wearing, and starts to suck on this skin there. This is when it gets _really_ hard to stay quiet, and Pete has to bite his lip to push back the moan that’s threatening to tumble out. 

“You’re doing better than I expected,” Joe growls out, and even though it’s worded as a compliment, it still sounds like Joe’s disappointed. Likely, he is. 

Joe works his way back up Pete’s chest and up his neck, continuing to suck on the skin as he goes. That’s going to leave a lot of marks, and they both know it. Pete wonders fleetingly if time’s almost up. 

It must be, because it seems Joe is getting desperate to get a noise out of Pete, biting and sucking harder on Pete’s jawline, and it almost works, but Pete barely manages to hold back the whimper threatening to let loose. And it seems that was enough, because Joe pulls back and whispers, “Damn. I guess sometimes you _are_ good for something.”

Pete holds back a reaction to the words, choosing wisely to remain silent until Joe says something else. 

Finally, Joe mutters, “Guess I’ve got to follow through now, huh? I don’t break my promises—even for a dirty slut.”

Pete isn’t sure what to do next, but luckily he doesn’t have to do anything at all. Joe sits back, and Pete can hear the sound of jeans unzipping. His breath hitches. This is already more than he’d come to expect to get out of this—and he is absolutely ready. 

“Come here, bitch,” Joe commands, but Pete doesn’t have time to follow the order on his own before Joe grabs his hair again and pulls him up off the bed. Pete can’t stop the pained moan that falls out of his mouth, but luckily making noise doesn’t count against him anymore. Pete can hear Joe moving a little more, and then another command comes. 

“Mouth open, whore,” Joe says. Pete obeys immediately, pressing his mouth into a wide ‘o’ shape. Not a second later, he’s being pulled by his hair again, and before he can even think, his mouth is being shoved over Joe’s dick. 

Pete’s instincts kick in and his starts swirling his tongue over the tip the way he knows drives Joe crazy—it gets a response immediately. Joe gasps, then tangles his hand in Pete’s hair again and pulls him off. 

“Slow down, you greedy bitch, you’re not in control here,” he grits out. Pete nods weakly, and Joe, apparently pleased with Pete’s acknowledgement, shoves Pete back on. 

Pete tries to listen to Joe’s command this time, moving his mouth slower and limiting use of his tongue. He knows he’ll be chastised for anything that Joe views as “taking control”—and that could be damn well _anything_. So he plays it safe, hoping that Joe will allow more soon. 

That’s when Joe starts moving. 

Pete had known it was coming, but it’s still a shock when Joe rocks his hips into his face. Pete makes a choked moan as Joe’s dick hits the back of his throat. Joe chuckles, tugging on Pete’s hair again—for no particular reason this time, probably just to make Pete squirm. (It works.) 

Joe keeps his motion up, starting to speak as he does, voice breathy as a result of what Pete’s doing, “Good slut, doing exactly what I tell you to—just like you should. You’re my little whore, always letting me do whatever I want with you, letting me treat you however I want, and you _like_ it, don’t you, you like being treating like nothing, you like taking my cock like the _dirty little slut you are_.”

Pete gives up on trying to do anything, just sits there complacently and lets Joe fuck his mouth, lets Joe have his way, like always. Joe’s dirty words wash over him as he sits there doing nothing but feeling horribly good and moaning at every other thrust—it’s what he’s supposed to do, so it’s what he does. It’s just like Joe keeps saying—he’s a dirty slut, plain and simple. 

Joe comes without warning, and Pete doesn’t pull off, since he has been told to yet. It goes down his throat, and he chokes a little, but manages to quiet it before Joe notices and makes a comment. Joe just sits still for a minute before yanking Pete back with the hand that never left his hair and laughing. “God,” he says, “look at you. The perfect image of a _whore_.”

Suddenly, the ribbon around Pete’s eyes is yanked down to his neck, and Joe pulls it up, bringing Pete’s head up along with it and forcing Pete to look at him. Pete’s eyes haven’t even begun to adjust to the dark room when there’s a bright flash and a click, and Joe laughs again. When his eyes clear, Pete realizes Joe’s phone is held in his hand. A dark grin is spread across his face. 

“That’s a keeper,” Joe comments gleefully, then turns the screen for Pete to see. “It belongs in a museum. I think I’ll call it _Needy Whore Takes It In His Pretty, Pretty Mouth_.”

Pete holds back a gasp when he sees the photo. His face is in the foreground, staring up at the camera with wide, dazed, just un-blindfolded eyes, the light of the flash reflecting brightly in them. His red lipstick has somehow smeared all over his face, and a tiny bit of come drips down his chin. He’s doubled over himself in the picture, and even though it’s a bit blurry, in the background it’s clear that he’s wearing the lingerie, and his hands are obviously handcuffed, sitting against his back. Joe’s right. It’s the perfect image of a whore. 

Pete must’ve been lost in his thoughts, because next thing he knows there’s the click of a key in a lock, and the handcuffs are coming off. Pete’s vision refocuses on Joe, now looking much kinder and softer as he pulls Pete off the bed and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

“C’mon, babe,” he says, smiling warmly at Pete, in wild contrast to the look on his face only a minute ago. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Pete agrees, his voice weak and croaky after what they’ve just finished. “Let’s do that.”

Joe kisses Pete one more time, whispers, “I love you” against the shell of his ear, and then, locking their hands together, pulls him into the bathroom. 

Pete’s barely processed the past thirty minutes, but the crazy thing is, he’d already do it all again.

**Author's Note:**

> yknow since you now read all of this and know I wrote it I’m gonna fess up and admit to writing Can’t Get You Out Of My Head too because you know what. this was worse.


End file.
